Miles
by Genis Aurion
Summary: [slash, oneshot, dedicated fic, KennyKyle]. You were probably miles and miles away, yet still you plagued my conscious and subconscious thoughts. No matter how far you are I'll still find myself in love with you.


I'm absolutely dismayed that _Nostalgia_ got only two freaking reviews, when it normally gets twelve per chapter. Naturally I'm not the happiest of people at the moment….  
I know my tenses are screwy in this story. Sorry. But I give up proofing my work, mainly because if I proof my work it goes unnoticed anyway (points at aforementioned story above).

**Miles  
**Dedicated to _Phoenix II_ and _style-xx_

He's probably miles and miles away from you.

It used to bother you that he was away so much. He moved away to attend a university on the other side of the country, a university that happened to have a more enhanced law program. He told you everything would still be okay, that the two of you would keep in touch, still. He assured you, you assured yourself, and even his best friend assured that promise.

He was miles and miles away from you. There was no way he'd know anything about how you were feeling. It seemed the farther he was away from you the more attracted to him you felt. You barely knew what he looked like anymore—hell, the only thing you remember about him is his large nose and red Jewfro—yet you still found yourself liking him.

You liked his personality. He wasn't anything like you, the socially inclined party-boy that wouldn't so easily fall into alcoholic intoxication. No, you liked him because he was different. His quiet nature complemented your loquacious behavior. He was intelligent in the areas you were not. He loved how science worked while you loved how people did science.

But he was miles and miles away—he'd never love you.

In your head you began obsessing yourself with a failure mentality. There was no way this could possibly work. But your biggest problem hadn't been if he'd accept you; rather, you didn't know if he'd be able to understand your feelings at all. He's so far away, you keep reminding yourself, and there's only so much you can express in an MSN conversation.

Would he be able to understand how much the distance between you slowly kills you from the inside? Would he understand the pain of hiding emotions?—from suppressing them in an attempt to convince yourself what you're feeling doesn't extend as far as you think it has, you've only sent yourself further down the slippery slide you've been trying to climb up your whole life.

He was miles and miles away when you finally told him. It was the first time in three months that he signed into his messenger account—you'd been waiting for him all this time, but as far as he knows you're just another old friend to talk to. From his side of the computer he sees nothing except a name and a picture.

You say hello hesitantly. He replies back to you without second thought. You try making decent conversation but he only replies with the same three-letter word, the letter you suddenly find to be quite irritating. Yet within all your aimless conversation you do have a purpose, but you still have no idea how to get it across.

Only so much can be said on MSN, only so much can be interpreted the right way. Sarcasm easily goes amiss; without tone in voice nothing can ever be said the way it's really meant. You can say something jokingly so many times, but by the time you do say it he'll only think you've joshed once more.

He's miles and miles away, yet it still feels like you can't escape your problems.

"Is it wrong to love someone you can never be with?" you ask, and the response you get is quite short.

"No."

"Is it wrong to love someone you barely know?"

"No." With each question you ask you find yourself falling further and further down that slide. Never before have you admitted your love using the internet; you've had long-distance relationships before, yes, but somehow that had been much easier—and, the two of you had gotten together while you were in arms length of each other. Somehow you're only hoping he'll answer yes to a question just to give you reason to reject your feelings.

"Is there anything you won't say 'no' to?"

"Yes, when you're wrong." You're sure he's thinking oddly of you now, how you keep asking questions that make absolutely no sense. In the back of the mind, however, something's telling you that he might've already figured it out, being the super-genius he is.

Yet you persist. "Bah. I'm sorry."

"For what, dude?" But you'll never admit it. Maybe you will eventually, when you absolutely know he won't hate you; but until then you want to back away from the opportunity as frequently as you can.

"For being blunt, yet being so blunt you still don't know what the heck I'm talking about." You take in a breath, daring not to breathe or even think of anything—you don't want that. You've set yourself up for danger, and it's only seconds now that you'll hear his response.

You're forced to exhale and hold your breath once more—his response takes a while.

He was miles away when you decided to tell him, and he was miles away when you slipped to the very bottom of your slippery slide. You should've waited for him to come home. You shouldn't have trusted a computer to do the work you could've done yourself.

He came back to South Park to visit his best friend, but only for a moment. You didn't bother seeing him, though. Even if he wasn't miles away anymore, he still felt like it your heart.

With regret in your mind painfully for almost ever, you're bound to do many things. Jump off a mountain, shoot yourself into the depths of hell—but it'll only briefly send you more than miles and miles away from him. In due time you'll come back as you always have, and you're left with the regret once more.

He's probably miles and miles away from you, yet you still can't escape your problems. Even if you don't want to, you still can't help but to be bothered by him.

**- fin -  
**And I really am sorry. You know who you are.


End file.
